


Adjustment Period

by joufancyhuh



Series: To Know A Vael [14]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 03:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Sebastian finds his new wife washing dishes in her underwear alone at 4am.





	Adjustment Period

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dismalzelenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismalzelenka/gifts).



> Dis left me the prompt, "washing dishes in your underwear alone at 4am. For Kalea Hawke, at any point in her timeline" for DWC. 
> 
> Thanks to [GuileandGall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/guileandgall) for betaing and for [inuy21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inuy21) for letting me torment her.

Sebastian finds her in the kitchen in the early hours of a dark dawn, birds chirping to welcome an eventual sunrise. There’s a small fire in the hearth and a black cauldron pulled to the side where Kalea sits in her silk night robe, scrubbing away at leftover dishes from what appears to be a late snack.

She disregards his entrance, her brow wrinkled with intense concentration while the rag in her hand scrubs hard circles into a stained plate. He moves to stand behind her, pressing a soft kiss onto her crown before reaching to tug the rag from her hand. “Pidge, mo ghràdh, come back to bed. Leave it for the servants in the morning.”

Pulling away from him, a scowl breaks across her face. Her silence continues, a heavier scrub on the plate until he’s certain she’ll break it. He tries again to take it away from her, but she responds similarly, stretching her arms away from his reach.

His concern grows and he kneels by her side, hands skimming the hemline of her robe. “What’s wrong?” When she doesn’t respond, he tucks some of the loose-hanging hair behind her ear, peering into her face while she avoids eye contact. “Talk to me, Kalea.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mumbles, the first words spoken since his arrival in the kitchen. “Go to bed, Sebastian. I’ll be in soon.”

He shakes his head before laying it on her knee, his hands skimming up the backs of her calves. “Not until you come with me.”

The scrubbing continues, the splash of water fighting with the crackling of the fire. When some of that water lands on the face, he shifts his position to lean into the soft of her stomach. This is supposed to be their honeymoon, but somehow he’s upset her, certain of that fact given her angry demeanor. He wishes he knew how, so he could offer a sincere apology and she would return to their bed to rest in his arms until the sun wakes them.

“Pigeon.” His hand slips between the loose folds of her robe, a shiver rolling up her spine as his cold hand glides across her bare stomach. She doesn’t offer any form of acknowledgement, though the hair on her arms stand at attention. “I can’t fix this if you don’t tell me what has you so upset.”

A sigh signals his success; the scrubbing slows. He plants a kiss into her side while he waits for her to begin, though his position grows uncomfortable against the hard floor. “I don’t like this _being waited on_ shit. Having people clean up after me. It’s not who I am, Bas.”

“You had servants in Kirkwall.” He keeps his tone neutral, scared after all this time to cause her to shut him out again. He wants to understand, he’s trying, but he knows she comes from a different background than he and there will never be a complete comprehension of her previous life.

“One, and Orana was more family than servant.”

“Bodahn and Sandal?”

A soft smile draws upon her lips as her eyes glaze over with memory. “Bodahn assigned himself his position to tell me if there was mail. And Sandal, well … enchantments.” She takes out her plate from the water, reaching for the towel that hangs from the lip of the cauldron. “Everyone but Mother chipped in with the chores there.”

He nods, because this concept he grasps, a realization dawning on him as he watches her spin the towel around the plate. “I can send most of them away, if that would make you happy.” The hand beneath her robe slips around her back, allowing him to further bury himself into her side. “But once we return to the palace, you’ll have to adjust. I can’t dismiss half of our staff simply because my beloved Pigeon likes to feel needed.”

Her spine turns rigid, and he knows he tracked down what really bothers her. She wrenches herself out of his grasp to rise to her feet, striding across the kitchen to return the meticulously cleaned plate to the cupboard. “I never said that.”

“Aye, but I know you well enough, Kalea.” Back on his feet, he dusts off the knees of his nightclothes, then shifts his attention toward her. “And I have listened to you complain multiple times about people expecting things from you, asking you for favors and help. You always say you hate it, but you love to feel useful.”

“I am useful,” she snaps, proof he hit a nerve.

“You are.” His arms slide around her waist as he steps to where she still faces the cabinet, lips resting upon the back of her head as he draws her into his chest. “And you are needed. I’ll always need you.”

“That’s cause you can’t suck your own cock,” she replies, but whimsy trickles through her voice, her posture sagging as her weight leans into him.

He laughs while bending down to nuzzle the side of her face. There’s a sudden awareness of how little clothing she wears, her hips to his as she sinks into him. “Is that an offer?” he jests, determined to work through this issue with her, not that the thought doesn’t tempt him. “I need you, Pidge, whether to kill spiders or, as you so eloquently put it, cock-sucking.”

A soft jab from her elbow digs into his ribs, a grin on his lips in reply.

But it falters with his hesitation to continue, the words thick and clumsy on his tongue as he attempts to shove them out. He hates to ask, but the question demands it. “Are you having seconds thoughts, mo ghràdh?”

She spins around; the movement so sudden that it nearly throws him off balance. He stumbles back a few steps. “Bas, no!” Her hands fly to cup his cheeks, leveling his gaze to hers.  “Never!”

Her lips collide with his as if the impact will force out any doubts of her love. But it was never her love he questioned. When she withdraws, he slides down to his knees before her, arms secure around her waist while he leans his head against her stomach. “Tell me how to make this transition better for you.” His teeth untie the loose knot of her robes, granting him access to the tender flesh of her belly. His cheek settles there as her fingers weave into his hair, holding him to her.  

A sigh echoes from above. “I wish I knew, love.”

“I’m serious about sending the servants here away. Just the two of us, maintaining the estate until we return to the Palace.” He shifts, his teeth grazing her skin while he sears open kisses across her abdomen.

Her surprised gasp accompanies the ripple of static that crawl over her. The snap of it catches him by surprise, flicking the tip of his nose. Her inability to corral her magic eggs him on, his sentences mumbled into her skin between nips.

“Although I’d much rather spend the time in bed before duty interferes.” His mouth begins to travel lower, stopping just above her navel. “So which do you prefer? Work … or _work_?” His eyes travel up her half-bare body, the swell of her breasts peeking from under her robe.

Bottom lip captured between her teeth, her gaze lowers to meet his.

He gives her a cheeky wink. “Personally, I prefer the latter, but I leave the decision to you.”

“Can I think about it?” The rasp in her voice suggests her opinion can be swayed, her mind unfocused on the first half of his proposal. Her fingers tighten in his hair, forcing the tilt of his head back.

“Aye, and while you’re thinking about it,” his hands slip from her back to knead the muscle of her rear, “it seems wholly unfair that only you got a late night snack.” When he stands, his lips join hers in a fiery kiss. Her legs wrap around his hips; his hands keep her upright until they knock into the counter, where he settles her. Without a moment of pause, his mouth descends, hands working to pull her robe off.

A low rumble stirs in her chest as he kneels once more. His face settles between her thighs, pressing a kiss against her inner thigh. Her hand cards through his hair, the tenderness of her action stealing his attention away toward her face.

“I need you, too, you know.”

A snarky reply sneaks into his mind, but he chokes it back in favor of basking in the affection shining in her brown eyes. No sight more mesmerizing in all of Starkhaven.

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> I've had this idea for awhile, that Kalea doesn't take well to people waiting on her. And this random ass prompt gave me the means to show that so thank you, Dis. 
> 
> I did not expect these two to try so hard to get it smutty.


End file.
